The time had come…
It was the early nineties. I lived and worked in Belgium. The quiet, steady rhythm of life in that small European country felt settled, as if it would never change. But the world was shiftingwalls were falling, borders opening. Then, out of nowhere, came an offer too good to refuse. London. A new project. A future full of promise…
I was working on my thesis in biomedical engineering, developing models for devices that could detect the bodys biopotentialslistening to the heart and brain without cuts or needles. The future of medicine was within reach.
And then, the offer. But it meant moving. I hesitated for days before telling Mum.
She sat in the old armchair by the kitchen window, her fingers quietly tracing the beads of her rosary. I took a deep breath.
“Mum… theres something I need to tell you. Ive been offered a job. In London…”
She looked up at meher eyes deep, clear, but shadowed with weariness.
“Thats far, love.” Her voice held no reproach, only quiet sorrow.
“But its an opportunity. I could finish my thesis, work with people who understand the field…”
Mum stayed silent. Only the faintest tremble in her lips. Then, just like that, tears welled in the corners of her eyes. I frozeId never seen her cry in my entire life.
“Youll leave… and what about me?” she whispered. “Im 79 now. My strengths fading.”
I pressed my face to her hand.
“Mum… I wont abandon you. But I have to think about my future too.”
She studied me, stern and certain.
“Remember, love. Nothing happens without reason. If God opens the path for you, youll go. If not… then He means for you to stay.”
After that, the obstacles began.
First, my request for academic leave was denied”Your defense cannot be postponed.” I came home in tears.
“Another refusal?” my sister asked, meeting me at the door.
“Yes!” I threw my bag onto the chair. “I dont understand why! It could all be sortedI spoke to the professor!”
She squeezed my shoulders.
“Maybe its a sign?”
I waved her off.
“A sign? Dont be daft! This is paperwork!”
But my chest tightened all the same.
When the documents were finally in order, another disaster struckthe visa was refused. The clerk shrugged. “Missing one certificate.”
I stepped outside, clutching the trembling folder in my hands. I wanted to scream.
“Lord, why?” I muttered.
At home, Mum was growing weaker. Even a short walk left her exhausted.
“Darling, should we call the doctor?” I asked gently.
She smiled.
“No need. I know how I feel.”
That night, I sat by her bed. She took my hand.
“Dont torment yourself, love. Theres time enough. Right now, I need you here.”
I pressed her palm to my cheek.
“Mum, Ill stay.”
Her gaze drifted, as if seeing something just beyond my sight.
“Youll stay. Because its what God intended.”
A few days later, she was gone.
The house fell into silence. Even the walls seemed to weep.
I sat by the window as candles burned, as voices murmured in the hall.
Then the phone rang. A voice from the embassy:
“Your documents are ready. All signatures approved. You may collect them.”
I hung up, breathless. Two days agonothing. Everything had fallen apart. Noweverything was settled.
I wept, understanding at last. It wasnt chance. I was meant to stay. I was meant to be here, to see her off on her final journey.
Only then did the path open.
Now, looking back, I hear her voice as clearly as ever:
“If God opens the way for you, youll go.”
And He did. But only once she was watching over me from above.
